joined on 03/23/07
last updated 12/10/07
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about me
I consider my self a writer… not that I’m published or that its what I get paid for but you aren’t your job, you are what you do… writing is what I do maybe some day it will be my job.
Most of my stuff reads off like campy gore flicks… that’s kinda the idea. I like to hide real meaning and deep thought somewhere in the setting but that’s usually in the backdrop adding the campy story line. Really my writing reads alot like a comic book but then that’s what I was going for… when all is said and done, I would like everything that I've written so far to be a graphic novel. I do have ideas for more classy and meaningful stuff but I haven’t flushed them out yet… anyway that’s for when I decide to make a serious novel which I just ain’t into right now.
I consider my self political… not that I’m more active than your usual disgruntled American but its what I’m studying in college and a lot of it ends up in my writing… I’m actually working on a political theory called “The Genocide Device” (hence the name) but its still being worked on and is nothing more than theory.
I know that its usually considered silly to not give your actual names on these forums but I would prefer not to share mine with you until I get to know you… and anyway my life is like an open book so don’t be afraid to ask questions.
Sample: The Flagellant. Suffering is Nine to Five
(blog entry)
The Flagellant
Suffering is Nine to Five
I hate my job. I know everyone says that. I mean, come on, let’s face it, work sucks. Now, I’m not try’n to minimize other people’s pain but I guarantee my job sucks worse than just about ninety-n...
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Sample: For the love of decenency
(blog entry)
Roger wandered the open square of the Steven’s & Savant’s Shopping Plaza from trash receptacle to trash receptacle. Today had not been a very promising day for Roger’s usual hobby on the job, and as people watching went, this transient group was n...
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Sample: Not in my country
(blog entry)
Sid stood at the opening of the dirt road remembering all those places he knew you where not supposed to go. Whether it was stories of dirt roads in the black hills or dark allies in big cities, Sid, like all people, had been told about one place ...
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Smaple: To make a stand
(blog entry)
The plasma compression chamber fired on Dunwi’s left arm, sending a freight train of Malinium Steel into the thick black carapace of the towering beast. An odd yellow fluid spilled out as its glossy shell caved inward. The fluid steamed on Dunwi’s...
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Sample: A Butterfly's Dream
(blog entry)
In the good old days we had numbers. The numbers begat made-up units of measurement to assure us that things were, in some respect, solid and consistent. Certain things, arguably the majority, were considered self-evident by the general consensus ...
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The Flagellant
Suffering is Nine to Five
I hate my job. I know everyone says that. I mean, come on, let’s face it, work sucks. Now, I’m not try’n to minimize other people’s pain but I guarantee my job sucks worse than just about ninety-nine point nine percent of the jobs in this world. I mean, being tied here to this desk has got to be one of the most painful experiences of my life and I ain’t some figure of speech.
I know what you’re probably thinking right now: “Oh, come on. In...
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Roger wandered the open square of the Steven’s & Savant’s Shopping Plaza from trash receptacle to trash receptacle. Today had not been a very promising day for Roger’s usual hobby on the job, and as people watching went, this transient group was not particularly pleasing. The plaza was normally pretty good for that; sandwiched between several interstates, just on the border of a major metropolitan area. Lots of tourism and lots of interesting people wandered through The Plaza making it ideal ...
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Sid stood at the opening of the dirt road remembering all those places he knew you where not supposed to go. Whether it was stories of dirt roads in the black hills or dark allies in big cities, Sid, like all people, had been told about one place or another that you’re just not supposed to go. It’s sad to think that this particular place is clearly marked by Old Glory, the very symbol of our nation’s freedom and our claim to tread where we please. Yet, if you were to ask why they had hung tha...
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The plasma compression chamber fired on Dunwi’s left arm, sending a freight train of Malinium Steel into the thick black carapace of the towering beast. An odd yellow fluid spilled out as its glossy shell caved inward. The fluid steamed on Dunwi’s fist in the cold morning air, as his computer relay scanned the structural damage left in its wake. The beast's many legs and claws raked helplessly upon metal, as the colossal silver warrior pushed forward with incredible might. A stream of informa...
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In the good old days we had numbers. The numbers begat made-up units of measurement to assure us that things were, in some respect, solid and consistent. Certain things, arguably the majority, were considered self-evident by the general consensus of the masses. Anyone could argue philosophy, the existence of the soul, whether or not ghosts were real; but for the most part, up was up, down was down, and gravity still worked just fine. Thinking back on it now, even the most fundamental of truth...
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February 27, 2008
One of my favorite memories of genocide device was at a party of his, me and him were in a very deep discussion about tool (drunk as two monkey can get) and he asked me what my favorite song on opiate was, I told him to guess. His face became very serious and after a short time he walked away from me. An hour or to passed during which I drank and mingled and did other such thing. ever time I looked at him he seemed lost totally removed from his own part. suddenly he came flying in-between me and a different conversation and screamed you’re a thinker and a fishermen! He was right and I was impressed , not that he got it right but that he took the question so seriously. He’s a deep thinker with a sharp mind and a kind soul. When he want (and sometimes when he doesn’t) he can be scary as hell itself and is capable of fighting in a way I can only describe as “like a fucking animal” but let me tell you theres no need for all that, He’s got a smile that could disarm Nazi Germany itself. If you cant tell im quite fond of this fellow and if you want to know how that night ended the last thing I remember is screaming the lyrics to “jerk off” off his fire escape at passers by. ( we both tend to drink more the we should)
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